Be my bow and I’ll be Your arrow Be my bow and in Your quiver I’ll live Be my bow since at Your side is my place Bow and Arrow, to rely on each other Bound together as One
Let me Be Thy arrow, the arrow of Thy Time to come the arrow to the Future days
Let me be Your Arrow I promise straight and focused paths Pointing Forward as we are Going where needed now and ever
Thin and sharp like the Arrow you need Delicate or deadly like the Arrow you want Fragile yes, but flying untamed Through whatever will come
Needing Your Hands and Aim Power in Your hands Please be my Bow For I was born The Arrow your hands and quiver only can have
No, I am not snob, I am picky, and not by my choice.
I just end up discovering that for some things I am like that. The fact is that I end smiling more comfortably with people having something to say, challenging me but in a good way, people able to look into my eyes with no fear. People having no fear to offend me by saying what they think, and thus showing me respect, or to stay silent when there is nothing to say, without needing to babble about nothing.
I just end up feeling more comfortable with people like that, and my smile or laughter blossom in an easier fashion in their company. It is sort of normal survival, evolution. It is natural selection. I smiled an inner smile when I realised that it is for me what I call “survival of the kindest”.
So no, I am not snob, I just live my breaths, my thoughts, my dreams, I do share and communicate them and this ends up in a flow that brings me naturally into being maybe a bit selective. To protect and value what for me is important. I actually think that everyone does it.
I do value and keep precious my friends and those persons, or “things”, that grow with me. It’s that simple. Over the years I have crossed the path of persons who feels they should belong to a whatever flow, just to be part of something. More than gross, I find that sad. By doing so they often end up having to push in order to fit into clothes that do not fit them. Everyone of us should live our own flow. Everyone of us do have a place, and we have to dig inside ourselves to discover what it is and make it blossom. It can take a lot of strength to do so. It takes/took determination and strength to me. It is something I am proud though, or at least I can claim it takes strength, so I can smile and giggle in thinking I have an excuse for being slightly “picky”
There is a book, a book i have by my bed, it is not an easy book. Like many good books it can be read in “various ways”. Like many books it has layers, rooms. The books that means or have meant, something in my life are a bit like a painting about which you can appreciate the whole or the detail, the technique, the materials composing it, etc.
Its title is “Donne che corrono con i lupi’ {Women Who Run With the Wolves}. it is a reading book, a guide, a psychology book, a voyage, and much else.
{The following is a translation, by me, from Italian – as I do not own the English version}
“Healthy wolves and healthy women have some psychological traits in common: acute sensibility, playful spirit, and great devotion. Wolves and women are akin by nature, knowledge curious and they do possess great strength and resistance. They are deeply intuitive and they are intensely caring of their ones, their partners, the group. They are expert in the art of adapting to the ever changing circumstances: they are fiercely strapping and very courageous”
I love this book, I FEEL it. It is a book every woman should read. It is a book most women do not need to read, because they are just wolves, yet, awareness is knowledge, and knowledge is inner strength. It is soul, it is celebrating this wonderful magical thing called life, it is understanding the depth of soul.
To me it is so. Often when I read such things I feel quite small and yet at the same time “capable”, full of potential. Most of all I feel I have a lot to learn, and I love learning.
Oh how tenderly I would wrap you, in what a tender hug I’d capture You, entwining our thorns in our mortal fleshes, Feeding You with the blood of my love.
Mixing bliss and blood, tears and pleasure breaths and moans.
Suspending time with our heartbeats, scratching our skins in a spiralling dance of Oneness
Making time not existing. Little instants of Foreverness we are given to live till the end of time.
Kitty Michelle's Universe 